


did it hurt when you fell from heaven

by CelticRune



Series: did it hurt [1]
Category: Choice of Games, The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticRune/pseuds/CelticRune
Summary: Five terribly cheesy pick-up lines, and one that actually sort of works.





	did it hurt when you fell from heaven

**Author's Note:**

> The fic in which I take Wayhaven canon and dunk it right into the trash so I can have room for two detectives and make them kiss. Keiji is mine, Tahir belongs to the wonderful SomeScribbles (somescribblesblog.tumblr.com on tumblr!), and all credit for the Wayhaven characters goes to the lovely Seraphinite (seraphinitegames.tumblr.com). This is set in a nebulous time post-Book One but I started writing it before the book came out, so there's no actual spoilers.

**1**  
He is going to find whoever keeps putting the coffee filters on the highest possible shelf and he is going to _end_ them. Or use them as a step stool so he can make the coffee he desperately needs at early o’clock in the morning, he hasn’t decided yet.

Since there’s no one to blame in the immediate vicinity, he instead hoists himself up onto the counter, careful to avoid both the precious coffee machine and the used coffee mugs littered around the small kitchen. It truly is an ecosystem all on its own, and it’s only right he contributes his own dirty mugs to keep it alive rather than clean it all up.

Perched up on the counter he can now see the coffee filters, all the way at the back of the top shelf. They’re haphazardly angled, like someone threw them in there specifically to spite him. He wouldn’t put it past some of the other people at this station, honestly, and he promises himself _vengeance_ as he takes the box and drops it onto an empty patch of counter.

“Good morning, Keiji!” Tahir’s voice rings out behind him, far too cheerful for the current hour and far closer than expected.

He jerks back with a startled curse, only belatedly remembering his precarious position. The thought, _‘well, this is embarrassing’,_ flashes through his mind, but that’s all the time he has before gravity takes hold and he slips backwards off the counter.

A strong arm wraps around his waist, pulling him back against a muscular chest and supporting him with no effort whatsoever. “Are you okay?” Tahir asks.

Keiji doesn’t try to move away, as he’s rather comfortable here while he waits for his heartbeat to even out. Instead he tilts his head back until he can see Tahir’s concerned expression and grins, putting a hand over his heart like some dramatic aristocrat. “Tahir,” he says with a breathlessness that’s not entirely faked, “I’ve fallen for you.”

He manages to keep a straight face right up until Tahir snorts and shakes his head, playing at exasperation even though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That was terrible.” Still, he lets Keiji down and onto his feet with more care than strictly necessary.

 “I’ll do better next time,” Keiji promises with a wink.

 

 **2**  
“These were left behind when she disappeared.” Nat puts a simple black clutch and a broken phone down on the table. Cracks radiate out from one corner of the phone and spiderweb across the screen. Some shards of glass are missing entirely, and mud and dirt stain the formerly sky-blue case. The clutch is just as muddy, like they weren’t just dropped but ground into the dirt.

“This hers?” Keiji asks, picking up the phone. The screen remains dark even when he tries to turn it on, and when Nat holds out her hand he obligingly gives it back to her.

“Presumably.” Ava inserts herself into the conversation like she does anything else: with a brusque superiority that makes Keiji grit his teeth and bite back a snappy remark. By the smirk that flickers across Mason’s face, he didn’t hide his bristling annoyance well enough.

“This is the first time anything was left behind,” Tahir says, his voice carefully neutral. “It’s the only physical evidence we have.”

“It’s getting sloppy.” The eager curve of Mason’s smirk has something feral to it, like a wolf scenting blood.

Keiji flicks open the clutch and carefully upends it. A lipstick, compact mirror, condoms, keys, and a couple tampons all clatter onto the table. No wallet or money, oddly enough.

Felix picks up one of the condoms with a grin. “Looks like her roommate was right about her not being on her way to work.”

“Maybe more of us should follow her example. Have some fun, get some use out of those,” Keiji says casually, and smirks when Felix winks at him. He doesn’t protest as someone takes the clutch from him, though he doesn’t look away to see who it is.

“Focus on the case,” Ava snaps, her glare sharp and disapproving.

“All work no play? You have to blow off some steam somehow, Agent,” he shoots back, not in the least cowed by her glare.

Her eyes narrow and she somehow straightens up further from her stick-up-her-ass military posture, using those few inches of height she has on him to her full advantage. He rises to match her, shifting forward onto the balls of his feet like he’s preparing for a fight. Getting under her skin and seeing her bristle is its own reward, but there’s no reason it should end there.

The rising tension snaps as Tahir drops the clutch onto the table with a surprisingly loud thud. “Her wallet,” he announces triumphantly, holding the item in question up for all to see.

Keiji blinks in startled surprise, all thoughts of heckling Ava forgotten. “Where the fuck?”

Tahir’s proud smile is a thing of beauty. “Some people will hide their wallets in the lining of their purse, to make it more difficult to steal. I thought she might have done the same.” He flips through her wallet as he talks, producing her ID and putting it on the table with the other items.

“Tahir,” Keiji says, solemn enough that it immediately draws everyone’s attention. He lays a hand on Tahir’s cheek, fingertips brushing against his jaw. “I need to tell everyone I know that I’ve touched an angel.”

For a few, very long seconds there’s silence. Then several things happen at once: Ava growls, looking about ready to kill him as per usual, while Mason just rolls his eyes, and standing in counterpoint are Felix’ laugh and the smile Nat hides behind her hand. Most important, though, is the way Tahir’s eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips thin as he tries to hold back a smile of his own.

 

 **3**  
“Who’s even in this picture? None of them look like you.” He crosses his arms and squints at the picture in question. A family smiles back at him from a field of yellow flowers, a peppy golden retriever sitting at their feet. It’s the only even remotely decorative thing he’s seen on the walls of Tahir’s apartment, and at first glance he’d thought it a sentimental thing. Now that he’s seen the Salit matriarch though, he’s realised that Tahir isn’t actually adopted. Those random people he has a picture of in his house for some godforsaken reason are just that.

“It was there when I moved in,” Tahir says with a shrug, not even looking up from the stove. “I haven’t gotten around to taking it down.”

Keiji lets the silence hang for a while, waiting to see if he’s going to get a better explanation. He does not. “You’ve lived here for how many years now? And you’ve ‘never gotten around to it’?” he asks incredulously, dropping his voice low in his best attempt at an impression.

It gets him a laugh, at least. “I don’t think I sound like that.”

“Pretty sure you do, babe, and we both know I’m always right.” Tahir lets out a sceptical huff, but doesn’t call him out on the blatant lie. Keiji abandons the stock photo of weirdness and wanders through the open archway to the kitchen. The smell of food is stronger here, and his stomach rumbles in response. He’s not a bad cook himself, but there’s always something special about anything Tahir makes. He briefly considers helping himself to a bite, but it’s not the food he’s most hungry for. Tahir makes a delectable sight like this, dressed only in an old pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips and with his hair still mussed from sleep.

Keiji hums quietly as he walks up close and runs his hands along the broad expanse of Tahir’s back. He can feel him shiver as he lazily brushes a kiss against the back of his neck. “Time for round two?” he murmurs, one hand sliding down to toy with the hem of Tahir’s sweatpants.

He can’t see Tahir’s face from here, but he can perfectly picture the blush blooming on his cheeks from the hitch in his voice when he speaks. Still so shy, even after they’ve hooked up more than once. Cute. “The pancakes will burn,” Tahir protests, though it’s a weak objection at most.

“You- wait.” He abandons all attempts at seduction and leans up to take a peek at the stove over Tahir’s shoulder. He snorts then laughs, dropping back onto his heels, resting a hand against Tahir’s back to help keep his balance. “Only you, Salit. Only you.” He shakes his head, still grinning.

Tahir shoots him a look that’s equal parts confusion and wounded dignity. “Pancakes are a perfectly acceptable breakfast food.”

“Sure, but it’s more wholesome than you’d expect for the morning after.” He shrugs. “Not that I’m complaining, mind.” He pulls out a chair and perches on the kitchen table, propping his bare feet up on the seat and away from the chilly tile.

“See if I ever cook for you from the goodness of my heart again.”

It might have sounded even vaguely threatening if it weren’t for how big a softy he knows Tahir is. “Like you could ever resist my puppy eyes,” Keiji teases, laughter in his voice.

Silence falls as Tahir turns his attention back to the stove and Keiji gets distracted watching the play and shift of Tahir’s muscles under his skin. As far as morning afters go, this has been one of the better ones. Even when he skips the times he didn’t bother staying long enough for a morning after. This thing he has with Tahir, it’s been startlingly easy. They worked well as partners, then friends, now this. Sex has changed little, which is just the way he likes it. It’s harder to resist the impulse to kiss the smile off Tahir’s face now that he’s had a taste, sure, but overall they’re still the same. It’s comfortable. Its’ made it easy to let his guard down here, in a way he hasn’t done since B- since college.

The feeling of someone watching him snaps him out of his thoughts and he blinks to find Tahir looking at him, a furrow of concern lining his brow. “A penny for your thoughts?”

The smirk is effortless and almost true. “Just enjoying the view, handsome,” he drawls with as much lewd suggestiveness as he can, just to see how sweet Tahir looks when stumbling for words.

He can see the moment Tahir does a double-take, as if only truly noticing him for the first time this morning. “You’re wearing my shirt.” A nod. “You’re wearing _only_ my shirt.” Another nod, this one accompanied by a smirk. It hardly counts as clothing when he didn’t even bother buttoning it up, but it’s not like he has any modesty left to preserve in front of Tahir. In so far as that he ever has any modesty at all, that is.

He stretches, languid and catlike, and he can almost _feel_ Tahir’s eyes on him. Faint marks litter his torso and neck, faded but still visible if you know where to look and only partly hidden by the open shirt. He didn’t ask, but he’s willing to bet that Tahir likes it. He knows he does. “Try not to let the pancakes burn,” he says as innocently as he can manage. He laughs as Tahir mutters a curse, then tears his eyes away to focus on rescuing breakfast.

An idea occurs to him, and he has to take a moment to calm his breathing so he’ll be able to keep a straight face. He slips off the table and into Tahir’s space, putting an arm around his waist. “Hey Tahir”—he takes the hem of his borrowed shirt and holds it out to the other man—“feel my shirt.”

“ _My_ shirt,” Tahir says drily, but Keiji’s clearly trained him well as he rubs the fabric between his fingers with no further objection. There’s a resigned sort of anticipation to the gesture, like he can tell a bad joke is coming but is still willing to play along.

Keiji has never been one to disappoint. “It’s made of boyfriend material,” he says proudly. He only barely manages to hold in his laughter as he watches the progression of emotions across Tahir’s face. From disappointment to amusement, as well as a brief flicker of something almost sad. It’s not something he wants to linger on, for fear that he might realise what that look means if he thinks on it long enough.

“I don’t think that line works if it’s not your own shirt.”

“I don’t think it ever works, but now it’s also a compliment! Two in one! Really, you should be grateful.”

Tahir flicks him in the forehead, nowhere near hard enough to hurt, and Keiji laughs.

 

 **4**  
The cold wind cuts straight through his leather jacket, chilling him to the bone. He probably should’ve worn a warmer coat, but seeing Tahir’s look of abject horror is worth the cold. It warms him even now, as they tromp through the abandoned warehouse by the light of their flashlights.

“We should head back. I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” Tahir says, muffled by the thick scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth.

“Freezing already, you baby?” Keiji asks, then laughs at the baleful glare Tahir shoots him.

“If there is a lead here, it’ll still be there in the morning. When the sun is shining and it’s _warm_.”

“The great detective, Tahir Salit, suggesting we skirt procedure for his own gain? I never thought I’d see the day.” He crouches by a heap of ragged, dirty-looking blankets and idly nudges one with his flashlight. It really is unlikely that there’s going to be anything useful here, but he keeps that opinion to himself. He doesn’t often get the chance to see Tahir grumpy and out of his element, and he kind of wants to see how far he can push it. “Want to check around upstairs?”

He gets up and turns around and his hand drops to his gun as there’s someone _right there_ , pulling him into a hug. He snaps a curse, his hand drifting away from his gun as he realises that _of course_ it’s Tahir, who else was it going to be, and his heartrate slows back down to normal. “Warn a guy next time, you menace,” he grumbles, projecting offence even as he relaxes and lets Tahir cling onto him like an oversized teddy bear.

“How are you not cold right now,” he grumbles right back, resting his chin on Keiji’s hair.

“Magic.” He wriggles one hand out of his cotton gloves, careful not to alert Tahir to what he’s doing. The cold bites deeper without its (admittedly slight) protection, but he can’t bring himself to care. He slides his hand up Tahir’s back and rests it briefly on his shoulder. Then he strikes, pushing the scarf aside and pressing his wind-chilled fingers against Tahir’s throat.

The sudden warmth is scalding against Keiji’s numb skin, but it only hurts for a moment before Tahir yelps, jumping back with a startled string of expletives. The utterly betrayed look on his face is too much and Keiji doubles over laughing, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye for dramatic effect.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you at all,” Tahir huffs, readjusting his scarf around his neck in an attempt to restore both the lost warmth and his dignity.

Keiji doesn’t even acknowledge the complaint. “Babe, sweetheart, honeybuns, sweetcheeks.” He steps closer and cups Tahir’s cheeks in his still-gloved hand, not even trying to hide his grin. “It’s a good thing I’m wearing gloves, cause you’re too hot to handle.”

The utter disappointment Tahir exudes like a physical aura makes it all worth it.

 

 **5  
** “This is the last time I’m listening to Ava when she suggests a missing chicken case might be relevant.”

“Hey Tahir.”

“Hm?”

“If you were a chicken-”

“Keiji-“

“-you’d be _impeccable._ ”

 

 

 **\+ 1**  
Stakeouts? Are fucking _boring_. No one’s been in or out of the hospital in the past two hours, and as it ticks past midnight it’s not about to get any busier. Their morphine thief is probably staff, given the lack of evidence towards a break in, but the captain had insisted on a stakeout rather than just interviewing all the staff anyway, to ‘eliminate all possibilities’. Complete and utter bullshit designed to waste their time is more accurate, but what can you do.

At least he’s not the only one bored out of his mind. He and Tahir are both posted up in the front seats of his shitty car, all set for a long night. Rather than just sticking to his seat though, he’s shuffled over until his legs are draped over Tahir’s lap, his back leaned against the car door. It’s not the most comfortable, what with the seat divider digging into the back of his knees, but it does mean that Tahir keeps _touching_ him, tapping his fingers against his leg or rubbing his thumb along the seam of his jeans. Casual, absentminded touches, like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. Net positive, over all.

“This lasts any longer, we could start playing truth or dare,” he says, his voice pitched low and quiet so it won’t carry.

Tahir shoots him a surprised look. “You’ve never struck me as the type who would enjoy being forced to tell the truth.”

“Well yeah, that’s why I always pick dare. It’s more fun anyway.” The hint of challenge in his grin is quickly mirrored by Tahir.

“It’ll be difficult to do proper dares without drawing too much attention”

“That’s not a no.”

“Sharp-“

A flash of movement catches their attention and they both go quiet, snapping from relaxed to alert and wary in less than a second. Keiji’s hands drift to the camera lying on the dashboard, while Tahir takes a closer look with a pair of binoculars at the figure that walks out through the automatic front door of the hospital. They’re too far away for Keiji to make out who it might be, but their casual pace doesn’t exactly scream ‘shifty’.

“It’s the receptionist,” Tahir reports, putting the binoculars down.

Oh. That asshole. “Never knew him to be that dedicated,” he mutters. If not for the fact that they’d been told not to engage unless absolutely necessary, he would love to take the man in for some questions. Just to see him squirm.

“Don’t you have faith in anyone?” Tahir asks, not looking at him as he makes a note on his phone with the asshole receptionist’s time of departure.

“Not if I can help it.”

“I’m glad I’ve managed to win the honour of your trust, then.” He doesn’t even look up, but he sounds far too genuine to be joking.

It stops Keiji short and he hesitates a beat too long before he manages an answer that’s not nearly casual enough. “Yeah, well, you’re not just anyone.” Tahir must have noticed his hesitation, the guy is annoyingly perceptive when he wants to be, so Keiji refuses him the satisfaction of acknowledging his knowing smile by mulishly keeping his eyes locked on the car now pulling out of the parking lot.

No smart comment follows, but when he risks a glance at Tahir the other man is wearing a soft smile. _Ugh._ “Time for truth or dare after all?” he asks, his voice deliberately light.

“If you’re confident you can come up with something good,” Tahir shoots back, and that’s definitely a challenge glinting in his eyes. It’s a far more pleasant sight than that uncomfortably knowing smile, that’s for sure.

Keiji taps a finger against his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “Dunno… I could always dare you to kiss me,” he drawls.

This time Tahir’s the one stopped short, as it takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then he shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Keiji’s halfway through a shrug, a retort about living to disappoint on the tip of his tongue when Tahir cups his cheek in a warm hand and kisses him. Keiji immediately leans into it, one hand coming up to tangle in his short hair. Unfortunately Tahir has other ideas, and he keeps the kiss disappointingly brief and chaste. Keiji’s grip tightens for a moment as he starts to pull away, but he lets him go before it would start to hurt anyone other than a big baby.

Not that he doesn’t immediately try to tempt Tahir into kissing him again. He licks his lips and watches with a sly smirk as Tahir’s gaze is drawn inexorably to his mouth, even just for a moment. “You’re giving me some great ideas for other dares, just sayin’.”

“All in good time. It’s my turn, first.” Keiji’s pout, while masterful, only elicits a smirk. “If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”

“Wait, you can’t just decide whether I’m gonna pick truth or dare, that’s not how it works. Especially not if you pick _truth_.”

“It’s what you did,” Tahir (rightfully) points out. His smirk only widens when Keiji narrows his eyes, and after some more glaring he huffs.

“Fine. We’ll play boring, then.” He looks out the window at the hospital, with its dark windows and empty parking lot. “First, I’d wish for a distraction from this fucking stakeout, preferably one that isn’t _boring_.” He emphasises the last word with a baleful glare at Tahir, who isn’t cowed in the least, damn him. “A hot distraction would be ideal.” He squints at the expanse of boring brick and beige that is the hospital, idly cracking his knuckles. They couldn’t even make it interesting to look at?

“Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?”

Keiji pauses, his train of thought promptly derailed, and he snaps his head around to look at Tahir. While there was a note of genuine curiousity in the question, he looks so pleased at Keiji’s reaction that it can’t have been anything other than deliberate. He grins, wide and delighted. “Look at you, actually being sorta smooth. Never thought you had it in ya,” he teases, leaning closer.

“I suppose I just had a great teacher,” he says with a casual shrug, though he’s smiling as well.

Keiji barks a laugh. “This teacher of yours encourages you to distract poor, innocent detectives from policework, is that how it is?”

Tahir snorts. “I don’t think anyone could rightly call you innocent.”

“Now that’s just-”

Glass shatters, distant but clearly audible in the quiet night. They both freeze, then look at each other with matching grins. _Fucking finally_.

 

 


End file.
